


I Can't Resist The Deadly Charge

by pikaflute



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Flirting, Knives, M/M, Sexual Tension, also mentions of chickles and like the prophecy because i love being gay, anyway happy halloween the spooky thing is im writing magnus ooooooo boo, magnus gets a half chub but like nothing else happens lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikaflute/pseuds/pikaflute
Summary: The light I’m chasingThe fire that makes us what we areI close the distance from afar!Charles has a meeting with Dethklok's most irritable guitarist: Magnus Hammersmith. It goes as well as you expect.
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Charles Foster Offdensen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	I Can't Resist The Deadly Charge

**Author's Note:**

> BLACK SWAN BLACK SWAN BLACK SWAN YOU WILL LISTEN TO BLACK SWAN BY TWRP RIGHT NOW. LISTEN TO BLACK SWAN BY TWRP RIGHT FUCKING NOW. PLEASE. (the title is from black swan by twrp if you couldnt tell.)  
> anyway this is for my friends rowan and clay. i will now proceed to never write magnus again. (maybe)

Out of all the bands Charles has had the pleasure of working for: Dethklok is the most unique. That is probably the nicest way Charles can put it without giving himself a migraine. Dethklok has their quirks, and it seems like each quirk is just so they can drive their manager up a fucking wall. Thankfully, Charles has kept his composure so far, opting to scream into his pillow every night, but the boys do not make it easy for him. Between Pickles’ excessive drug and alcohol use, Nathan’s tendency to fall asleep during very important meetings, Skwisgaar’s incessant nagging, and Murderface’s insistence to put a hole in every surface in his office, Charles has kept it together. Barely, but he’s kept it together.

Then there’s Magnus Hammersmith. Charles reaches for the acetaminophen just thinking about him. It’s like whatever God is up there decided to punish him (Charles bets it on him being gay) for some reason with the most annoying man ever created. Magnus is the paragon of annoyance (and if Charles ever told him that his already massive ego would inflate) and it’s no wonder, Charles thinks, that his bandmates are constantly complaining about him. From Magnus’ tendency to lie about anything and everything, his aforementioned ego, his perfectionist attitude that halts music process, to that whiny tenor that shoots up an octave or three when he doesn’t get his way and may be giving Charles early tinnitus. Everything about Magnus is specifically made to make everyone suffer, and that curly haired asshole knows it. He revels in it, and that makes Charles’ migraine worse.

Someone needs to take him down a peg. And quickly.

Speaking of, said asshole is coming in today. The calendar on Charles’ desk has a circle around today’s date, the 18th, with the words ‘Magnus’ in red pen. Next to the word Magnus is a sad face. That sums up how today’s meeting will go pretty nicely. As Charles reaches for the pills (extra strength this time, he’s going to need it), he hears the voice of his assistant Grace, coming from the speaker on his phone.

“Sir. Mr. Hammersmith is here.”

Charles will give Magnus one thing. At least he’s always on time. Charles’ presses the button to reply.

“Send him in please.”

A few moments pass by and he hears boots stamp towards his office. Then, the door swings open and in comes the source of Charles’ flaring tension headache. Magnus smiles at Charles, grin curling up mischievously. It reminds Charles of a cat.

“Chuck! How’s my _favorite_ manager doing?”

“Don’t call me that. Sit down please. And I am quite alright, thank you.”

Magnus slumps down in the seat in front of Charles. He looks bored.

“So why did you call me from my very busy schedule. You know we have practice today.”

Lying already. Great. It was going to be one of those days. Charles taps his desk to stop himself from rubbing at his temples.

“Insurance forms and waivers. You were sick when I filled them out with the rest of the boys. So, you get a special meeting with me.”

“Ooh fun.”

“Quite.”

Charles pulls out a big stack of papers from his desk. Magnus’ eyes widen.

“Jesus Chu-“

“I am filling out most of these. I need you to fill out personal info. Please wait and we will be done with this soon.”

Magnus huffs but doesn’t do anything else. Very well. At least there was no witty remark _this_ time. He begins filling out some basic preliminary information and reads through the heavy worded jargon. No matter what, Charles will never get tired of reading documents with loopholes and hidden agreements interwoven into wall of texts that would make people’s head spin. Call him a nerd, but legal jargon gets him excited. Charles works up a good pace filling pages out (doing it four times before probably helped), however he stops when he hears an incessant tapping. He has a pretty good idea on where that’s coming from. He looks up at Magnus, sure enough tapping away some beat on the arm rest.

“Magnus.”

“Huh?”

“Tapping. Please stop that.”

“Figuring out a new beat.”

“Last time I checked you are not a man named Pickles,” Magnus goes to say something (probably about Pickles’ drum patterns being off) but Charles cuts him off, “If you are so desperate to keep to your _busy_ schedule, I insist you keep quiet.”

“Whatever.”

The tapping stops after a scoff and an eyeroll from Magnus. Charles looks back down and gets back to work. Well that settles that for now. Except when a few minutes roll by and he hears a cup rattle on his desk, and then a shuffle of clothes and squeaky leather as if someone is readjusting themselves after pulling off the shittiest heist imaginable. Charles sighs. Magnus must think he’s stupid because this is the third time the man has tried stealing pens from his office. Charles let it slide the first two times, but if Magnus keeps this charade up, he’s gonna run out of pens. And to be quite honest, Charles likes his pens more than he likes the guitarist. Charles turns the page of the waiver and taps the desk to get Magnus’ attention.

“Put the pen you stole back.”

“What? Fuck you I didn’t steal shit.”

Charles looks up from the insurance waiver he’s writing and sighs. Fine. He’ll play _this_ game. Charles gets up from his desk and moves to the front, standing in front of Magnus. Even when seated (and slouched in his seat) the guitarist is still pretty tall, so Charles doesn’t have to cast his glare too far down to ask for his pen back.

“Pen.”

Charles puts out his hand. Magnus gives a smirk.

“Yeah I got your pen right here.”

Magnus goes to pull something out of his jacket. Instead of Charles’ pen, it’s a middle finger. Very classy. And apparently according to Magnus, absolutely hilarious. But Charles isn’t laughing.

“Oh man! I got you Offdensen! You should _see_ the look on your face!”

Between Magnus’ jeering, Charles grabs the offending hand. Two can play at this game. He squeezes.

“Haha-ow! That fucking hurts. Let go.”

Magnus pulls but Charles doesn’t let go. In fact, he squeezes even harder. Charles gives a faint smile when Magnus winces.

“Hey! That’s my fretting hand!”

Ah there’s that whiny tenor. Charles can hear his ears beginning to ring already. Charles eases up his grip a bit and puts his hand out again.

“Relax. You have insurance. My pen please.”

“Fine. Fine. Here.”

Charles snatches the pen back. Magnus sticks his tongue out to tease, but Charles ignores it. He’s trying to keep some professionalism after all. He sits back down and continues to fill out his forms. Magnus keeps quiet for the most part, a nice reprieve for once, while Charles gets a rhythm going with the forms. It’s only when Charles is halfway done when Magnus speaks again.

“I don’t even know why you need me here. You seem to be pretty fine filling out those papers by yourself.”

“Well. Magnus, if you recall, when you were sick-“

“Hey. I had pneumonia. Would it kill you to show some sympathy?”

Charles grits his teeth. Ah yes. The whole reason why he had the band fill out the forums in the first place. The apartment the boys had affectionately named Mordhaus, could be classified as a fucking biohazard at this point. Someone, usually the immunocompromised Pickles, would come home sick and it would be passed around the band quicker than you could sneeze. And with the band’s insistence on never seeing a doctor (they all had their reasons but the general consensus was it was not “brutal” to admit you were sick which made Charles want to strangle the nearest human being), it came a time to finally get the boys insurance. If they wanted to die so bad, so be it, but Charles wasn’t letting his money go down the drain.

“I’m very sorry you got pneumonia Magnus; you would have been healthier sooner if you saw a doctor like I recommended.”

“Nah. I know their tricks.”

Here we fucking go. An infamous Magnus Hammersmith rant on how the world was out to get him in some way or another. He’s pretty sure this is the reason why Nathan gave him earplugs at the last band meeting when Magnus started to rant about the weather for the upcoming gig. Someone always eventually took the bait for a rant, whether it was intentional (as Pickles usually riles Magnus up into ranting more and more, which infuriates Charles to no end) or not, Magnus would end up ranting, which ended in a fight, which meant no work was being done. And no work meant no money.

Charles knows he shouldn’t take the bait from Magnus. He just wants to finish these papers and go back to doing work that wouldn’t involve a six-foot-tall asshole who thinks he’s smarter than you. But he is really fucking curious what is going on in Magnus’ head this time. So, he bites.

“Explain.”

“Well. You know how they try to like sell you shit right?”

“That, ahem, “shit” is medicine Magnus.”

Magnus waves his hand, as if to dismiss Charles’ previous statement.

“Whatever. I don’t need anything like that to make me better. People back then didn’t need doctors so why should I?”

Charles grips his pen as he bitterly thinks: _They didn’t have the medicine you have access to which caused them to die young if they ever contracted anything you pick up from your contagious drummer._ Charles lets out a sigh and doesn’t voice his concerns aloud out of concern for getting into an argument with the thick-headed guitarist.

“Regardless. The reason you are here is to prevent something like that ruining the band’s finances and if you ever decide to go to a doctor someday, that option will be available to you.”

“And what if I don’t go to a doctor then Chuck?”

“Well, you would drop dead due to your lack of foresight most likely.”

Magnus winces as he speaks, “Christ. That’s…a little morbid huh?”

“Well. You asked did you not?”

Magnus shrugs and Charles takes that as the final word on that subject. He goes back to writing, getting his rhythm back from before. Magnus groans a couple minutes later but Charles does not look up. Another groan. Charles still does not look up from his desk. He knows Magnus is goading him into paying attention to him, since he’s bored, but Charles does not get paid enough to babysit a man two years older than him. A third groan from Magnus gets Charles to speak, but he continues to fill out the forums, eyes down towards his desk.

“Magnus.”

“How much longer is this gonna take Chuck?”

“Not long. Just give me a few more minutes.”

“Rock stars, like me, shouldn’t have to wait.”

Charles suppresses his urge to laugh. He bites the inside of his mouth to stop himself from doing so.

“Well, what is so pressing that needs to be done right _now_ Magnus?”

“Well, if I had to guess, I probably have to fix that shitty solo _he_ insisted on putting in when I get back,” Charles can picture Magnus twirling a stray curl in his hair as he speaks, “I have no clue why Nathan enables him.”

“Skwisgaar?”

“Ugh I wish,” Magnus rolls his eyes, “Pickles, actually.”

Pickles had caused tension with the guitarist. Not surprising at all. With Magnus’ attitude and Pickles well, issues that would be too long for a list, they were bound to butt heads once in a while. Whether it be a drum pattern (which in Charles’ opinion sounded much better but you didn’t hear that from him) or one too many solos that cut out the drum parts in the song, the two always has something to complain about regarding one another. Judging by the way Magnus just threw his drummer under the band, Charles thinks this isn’t the first time Magnus has talked behind Pickles’ back, and it probably won’t be the last.

Call it a residual crush from when he saw the man in a crop top and cowboy boots, but he feels the need to defend Pickles from a man who just recently claimed that doctors were out to scam him. That or Charles knew Magnus was just baiting him into another argument.

So, once again, he bites.

“Why the aggression towards Pickles?”

“Why not?”

Fair point. Pickles, despite how insufferable Magnus can be, is also his own brand of annoyance. Though, Charles is pretty sure Pickles annoys Magnus to get a rise out him deliberately. And while Magnus getting frustrated does humor Charles as well, it probably isn’t funny for the band who is trying to do work constantly.

Still. Gun to the head, he’d take the drummer any day of the week.

“Well, alright, what did he do this time then?”

“He thinks he’s better than me! Me! Can you believe it?”

“Yes.” Charles speaks without a moment of hesitation.

Magnus gasps. Finally, Charles looks up from his paperwork. He’s finished and needs Magnus to do his part, so he might as well humor the guitarist a little bit longer.

“Chuck, are you playing favorites with us?”

“It’s not a matter of favorites. I think a former musician in a very successful band may know a little bit more than the man who was kicked out of fifteen prior bands.”

“Hey,” Magnus points at Charles, glaring now, trying to intimidate the normally stoic manager, which is failing, “That doesn’t mean shit. Pickles could’ve been in five hundred bands and that doesn’t mean he can have an ego over me.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, Magnus.”

“What?”

“Anyway, I don’t believe Pickles, or any member of Dethklok thinks they are better than you,” Charles slides the papers over as he speaks, “Furthermore I believe that you need to calm down for a second.”

“I am calm!” Magnus hits his fist against the armchair, his voice in a high tenor pitched shout, “Can’t you see how fucking calm I am?”

“I’m sure you are Magnus.”

Charles places a pen on the stack of papers. Charles smiles, tilting his head to the side. A sly gesture as he went in for the kill.

“You could have made it big like him. I’m sure you could have. But yet you didn’t. And here you are. Stealing your manager’s pens.”

Magnus pouts like a child but doesn’t say anything else. Another win for Charles. He taps the stack of papers.

“Now. Back to the subject at hand, these insurance waivers need your information and I need you to fill them out. Once that’s done you can rant in Dethklok’s company and not mi-“

“No.”

_Oh? Now a tantrum?_ _Interesting_ , Charles thinks as he folds his hands, _Let’s see how this plays out._

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. No.”

“Well. I can’t leave until these are done. And may I remind you that _you_ can’t leave until these are done either.”

“I’ll fill them out,” Magnus stands up and places his hand on the stack of papers, “If you apologize for being an asshole.”

A lesser man would’ve been intimidated by Magnus’ towering stature. Charles, despite being only 5’5, was not about to be a lesser man.

“You think you’re better than me Chuck? You think you’ve outsmarted me? I see what you’re doing.”

“Hm? What am I doing Magnus?”

“You’re trying to let me get my guard down. Trying to make me vulnerable.”

“By asking you to fill out forms.”

“And talking down to me like you’re some fucking God or something!”

Well. With what research Charles has done into the future of this band, he doesn’t think Magnus is too far off in that assessment. Charles stands up behind his desk. Even at his height, he tries to appear intimidating. He smiles when Magnus flinches a bit.

“What ever you are thinking in your head, is not what is happening. I have a job and I would like to get back to it. Please sit back down Magnus.”

“Make me.”

Charles sighs. He makes his way to stand in front of Magnus now. The guitarist is smirking as Charles looks up at him.

“Magnus. Sit.”

“Or what.”

“Or _else._ ”

“You think I’m scared of the numbers guy? I’ve been in _a lot_ of fights four eyes.”

Charles rolls his eyes as he thinks of all the times Nathan has had to help Magnus out of a fight because he thinks he can take on three guys that are twice his size. He can probably name five off the top of his head if he put in the effort.

“Are you threatening me Hammersmith?”

The use of his last name gets Magnus to momentarily pause. Then, a shit eating grin.

“If you’re into that Offdensen.”

Charles is not smiling. He crosses his arms and cocks his head to one side. Magnus puts his hand on his hip and cocks his head as well.

“Hey Chuck.”

“What were you planning on doing if we did hypothetically fight?”

“Ah, I’m just bluffing-“

“Tell me Hammersmith.”

Magnus reaches for something in his jacket. He then pulls out a knife and grins. Charles wonders how Magnus hid it without him noticing.

“I mean I’ve seen the fencing trophies four eyes, maybe you can like duel with me with like one of your pens or something,” Magnus gestures at the pen cup with his knife, “Though, I gotta say this knife might be even better than one of those pens.”

Charles grabs the knife out of Magnus’ hand.

“Careful with that Chuck, it’s-“

Charles throws the knife, it hits the wall dead on, making a thunk as it embeds itself in the red walls of Charles’ office. Magnus jumps at the noise and looks down at Charles, eyes wide.

“…sharp…”

Then, in an instant, while Magnus is distracted, Charles grabs him by the hair. Magnus lets out a yelp as Charles brings him down and speaks in a rough tone directly into Magnus’ ear.

“You need to be quiet and sit the _fuck_ down. Can you follow that simple command?”

Magnus squirms underneath Charles. Charles pretends to not notice how Magnus is at half mast after Charles grabbed him by the hair. Thinking on it hard enough, Magnus probably started getting hard after Charles stood from his desk, but who’s paying attention. By all accounts, this was highly unprofessional, but it was only way to get his client’s very short attention span to focus. Magnus could deal with his erection later, when Charles was done with his business and he learned to _behave_.

“Answer me.”

“Y. Yes. I. I can do that.”

Charles yanks on Magnus’ hair one more time, and a pitiful whimper comes out of Magnus’ mouth. Charles is sure Magnus is fully erect now. Not his problem, however. That is out of Charles’ contract and way above his pay grade.

“Good. You know how to listen. Let’s get back to the forms, shall we?”

Charles releases his iron grip on Magnus and Magnus sits down and starts filling out the forms. The only sound filling the room are Magnus’ labored breathes and the pen he’s using to write. _Good_ , Charles thinks, _some peace and quiet._ Charles goes back to his seat and opens his laptop. He has no other pressing work to get to, so he starts up his favorite game to pass the time: Bejeweled. Damn his crippling attention to match-three. Fifteen minutes have passed and he’s about ten levels in, when Magnus speaks up again.

“I finished.”

Charles pushes his laptop to the side as Magnus places the papers back on his desk. Charles looks to see if everything is in order. As he does, he sees Magnus trying to catch his attention. It’s quite adorable after all the shit he pulled this afternoon. Charles pays it no mind as he sees that everything is in order.

“That’s everything Hammersmith. You’re free to go thank you for your time.”

Magnus is stunned into silence. His jaw drops as Charles outs the forms in one of the drawers in his desk, where he keeps Dethklok’s files. Charles still pretends to not notice Magnus’ shock, which forces Magnus to speak.

“That’s it?”

“Yes. The forms are done with. Don’t forget the knife in my wall on the way out.”

“But. We. You!”

“We what Magnus? You want to tell me what happened when _I_ took control of the situation?”

“I! That’s not! Fuck you!”

“I thought you would want it the other way?”

Magnus turns red and scowls. He then goes over to the wall and pulls on the knife. He grunts as he tugs on it.

“Don’t pull anything over there.”

“Fuck. Off.”

Charles smiles. Magnus flips him off. The knife eventually is removed from the wall as Magnus stumbles back a bit from his tugging, Charles makes a mental note to patch that wall up later. After Magnus places his knife back in his jacket, he walks back to Charles’ desk. Magnus opens his mouth to say something but has learned by now that maybe it’s better if he stayed quiet. Especially around a man who wouldn’t give him any headway. Little victories at least. Magnus makes his way to the door when Charles remembers something.

“Oh, and Magnus?”

Magnus looked back at Charles. There was a spark of hope in his eyes. This time Charles was the one with the shit eating grin instead. Teasing the man felt fair enough after all, right?

“It’s Charles. Please call me by my name and I might consider doing something with you, ah ,after hours.”

Magnus is red again. He kicks the doorway and winces when his boots make contact with the doorway. Serves him right. Magnus takes one look back and says:

“Whatever you say. _Charles_.”

And then he leaves, closing the door behind him. His confident stride from earlier is replaced with a hurried stomping out of the building. As soon as Charles is sure Magnus is gone, he lets out a giant sigh of relief. Holy shit.

Not to toot his own horn or anything but that felt really good. Going on a power trip on the most egotistical person he’s ever had to pleasure of managing made him feel like he was on cloud fucking nine right about now. Charles was right, Magnus _did_ need to be taken down a peg, and god damn did it feel so satisfying to see him squirm.

And, okay, maybe Charles wants to see Magnus squirm in another context, but that was something to be discussed later and maybe analyzed after he got rid of the head rush of this powerful feeling. Right now, however he had a match-three game to play. Level eleven is waiting for him. Before he goes back to his game, he writes down two notes: one reminding him to fix the wall, and the other reminding him to tease his guitarist a little bit more. Just for his personal enjoyment. With that all squared away, Charles goes back to his game, his headache not as bad as it was before.

**Author's Note:**

> pikaflute on twitter/tumblr. come see me simp on a daily basis and complain about my back


End file.
